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They end up at Chibs’ house. Partly because it’s closer to the Clubhouse, partly because the Scot doesn’t want to leave the kid to suffer the aftermath of the beat-down alone. Not after everything they’ve been through.
Chibs flops down on the couch, and it’s not long before Juice joins him, all but curling up in his lap with a bag of frozen peas pressed against the worst of the swelling on his face. The elder had been concerned that his actions would only succeed in driving the kid further away from him, but thankfully they’d had the desired effect.
He is certain now that he can still trust Juice.
Certain now that his boy hasn’t gone too far to be saved.
His Juicey is still in there.
The Scotsman’s fingers brush gently over the butterfly bandage on the younger outlaw’s face, feeling Juice’s muscles twitch under his finger pads.
“I love y’, kid.” He murmurs, almost too softly to hear. And as his eyes begin to drift shut, he hears the faintest sound of a response from the other.
“I know.”